The Devil In Your Eyes
by Everything-In-Focus-94
Summary: Sherlock and this mysterious stranger... Who is she and what does she want from him? Sherlock/?  all will be revealed but on which fic mua-ha-ha! This is a smutty one guys with multiple sex scenes/multiple pairings - so be warned. Spin off of another fic
1. Chapter 1

**YES... this is a repost of chapter one of Beautiful Release but as I have said before there were two ways this could have gone so instead of scrapping the first idea I'm doing a spin off... unfortunately I'm not creative enough to rewrite the beginning again as I actually really like this beginning. All will be revealed soon!**

The Devil In Your Eyes

Her heart raced as her boot clad feet thundered through the halls of the leisure centre. Her breath hitched in her throat as she wrenched yet another door open, finding nothing within. She cursed under her breath, throwing the door shut and running towards the flight of stairs before her.

Taking two steps at a time she practically threw herself up the stairs, stopping only a moment when she noticed a guard sitting idly by the window. He was entranced by the glittering lights of the sirens beneath, on the lookout for any police who dared to throw themselves into a hostage situation, a loaded long range rifle by his side.

Reaching for the gun in her holdall she quickly pulled the trigger before as the guard turned around and opened his mouth to fire in surprise. The gun fired without a sound, causing the woman to smile at the success at her invention. The bullet however flew through the man's surprised face, spraying blood onto a nearby wall and the bullet itself embedded into the window, shattering glass and sending chips everywhere. She cursed at herself hearing the immediate panic of police chatter and the scurrying of feet as people rushed out of the way of fallen glass. She now had less than 10 minutes before the police stormed the place. She rushed down the hallway no longer worrying about being quiet.

Holding it at arm's length she immediately took out another guard before he'd even had a chance to get to his, who had been in close proximity gun and had been alerted by the noisy crash. She opened the door finding her on the balcony of the swimming pool. She shook her head at her own stupidity.

A single sniper. Not the 20 or so as she'd first thought. A single rifle and 15 laser pointers she quickly counted. Clever, clever, Moriarty. The man popped his gum, and she could almost hear a nervous jump coming from below them.

She crept up behind him, her breath silent and snaked an arm around his mouth. The man squealed into her palm, struggling against her iron tight grip for a moment before a resounding crack of broken bone echoed through the empty room. The man's struggles stopped and he fell limply to one side, his head no longer supported by his broken neck flopped to one side. She caught the gun as he slumped holding it close to her and gazing through the laser pointer.

Three men were in its sights and it was pointing directly at a tall dark haired man who had his back to who she now saw was someone she knew. The person she was looking for. Jim. She snarled under her breath. In the now sudden silence of the room she could hear what they were saying clearly.

"I would try to convince you... But everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!" the Irish man said, his voice rising with his sadistic excitement. The dark haired man peered at the sandy haired man who was sitting terrified, frozen with fear on the floor. The only movement he made was a slightly incline of his head. The taller man just nodded back, spinning around to brandish his Browning L9A1 at him. The woman smiled at the man's brazenness.

"Probably my answer has crossed yours" he uttered as he span. The two men locked eyes, a ferocious duel going on between them. The sandy haired man continued to look terrified for a moment before he frowned, his eyes resting on the red spots on the man's suited back.

"S-herlock?" he began, getting slowly to his feet. Sherlock turned slightly to his left to find his roommate standing at his side. Jim looked at his hostages, the first true look of confusion etched onto his normally smirking features.

"The snipers... They're not moving, not shaking, nothing." The sandy haired man finished pointing idly at the now motionless dots that were pointing at the bomb and the two men. Jim's eyes widened and he pressed a button on his watch. The two men flinched but relaxed as nothing happened to the bomb.

The woman felt triumphant as a walkie talkie beside her bleeped again, and again and again. She picked it up a smile appearing on her face.

"WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING!" she heard from two places. She held the button down and allowed her crackling breath to fill the room from the speaker hidden in Moriarty's watch.

"I'm sorry Jim, your snipers a little- broken. So I thought I'd fill in for him, nice trick with the laser pens by the way." She said disguising her own accent with a mimic of Jim's one. She stood up and cleared her throat loudly. Three sets of eyes flung to her.

"I believe I taught you that in the October of 95" she smiled, allowing her full painted lips to open revealing sparkling white teeth. She paused, holding a finger to her lips in mock confusion.

"But of course you wouldn't remember that... who would remember the ditzy blonde barmaid who had read far too many espionage and crime novels than was healthy..." With that she dropped the rifle, and clambered onto the balcony, dropping the small distance into the pool room. Landing artfully on her feet as a cat would, she brushed herself off and raised her gun to point at Jim. For the first time in the evening Jim paled and began to look scared. She began stalking around the pool, never taking her eyes off the criminal mastermind.

"Or the mischievous red haired Irish girl who knocked on your door one evening, looking for talcum powder to make a powder bomb to scare her brother... because that's what it is in there isn't it? Not explosives... and WHO could forget the French tourist who asked you for the time who made you get your phone out because your watch had been _misplaced_. And then she held that phone for a split second putting a bug on it? Well apparently you forgot, judging by the confused look on your face... you see Mr Holmes." She said, raising her eyes to meet the intrigued eyes off the consulting detective.

"You and _Jimmy _boy here aren't the only ones who are masters of disguise. After all, neither you nor your companion have realized I was the pregnant lady who your friend stopped you from stealing the cab from, leading to us sharing it because astonishingly we were going near the same places!" she mock gasped, holding an elegant gloved hand to her mouth.

"What a coincidence... of course I was just checking up on you, making sure that you didn't get blown up or kidnapped 3 times. Jim thought it was your genius Sherlock, not someone else helping you..." she smiled. Sherlock frowned, the grip on his gun tightening.

"Do you- do you work for my brother?" he said slowly. The woman let out a tinkling laugh.

"No... I do not work for Mycroft isn't it?" she said raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow. She gripped the gun tighter, holding at Jim who had been trying to back out of the side door.

"Don't you dare" she hissed. Jim paled again, his eyes widening.

"You see Jim; you've been noticed on the other side of the Atlantic. So of course they sent someone over to look for you" she began, allowing her voice to slip into her familiar soft English lilt.

"They needed someone who knew England, an operative displaced from her own country, that they'd trained to be as stealthy and quiet as a cat but as strong as a lion." She continued, moving towards him and placing the gun to his head.

"An assassin?" Sherlock asked, lowering his gun ever so slightly to take in her leather cat suit which clung to every curve of her body with weapons mounted on various holdalls. She rolled her eyes and looked at him.

"Why does everyone assume- OOF!" she grunted as Jim took advantage of her momentary distraction, grabbing her around the neck and wrenching the gun from her hand. It clattered to the floor noisily, neither of the two in the grip daring to grab it for fear of setting it off. Sherlock's gun flew upwards and he pointed it directly at Moriarty who was hiding behind the woman's head. She smiled shaking her head.

"Stupid mistakes on your part my dear" Moriarty sneered, bringing a knife from his pocket and running the blade along her face. She arched against him, causing his head to be next to hers.

"Oh no Jim, stupid mistake on your part" she whispered, huskily, struggling lightly against his arms. He frowned, the blade dropping to his side as his spare hand came up to steady her moving body. A smile appeared on her lips once more.

"How so?" he hissed. She tutted and shook her head again.

"You should never let me get this close" she whispered. With that she grabbed the hand that was enclosed around her throat, simultaneously kicking his legs out from beneath him and flipping him over her shoulder. Her auburn wig slipped and revealed the long glossy black tresses beneath it.

Jim clattered noisily to the floor, groaning for a moment before falling silent. The woman bent over him, turning him over and clipping handcuffs over his slender wrists, her newly freed hair dangling over his body. The two men continued to stare, Sherlock gun still armed and raised unsure whether they were still in danger.

"Relax- I didn't kill him, he's only unconscious." she smiled without looking at them, turning Moriarty back onto his back pinning his handcuffed hands between himself and the tiles. She span facing the shocked men.

"Th-thank you" John managed to stutter out, cradling his arm. The woman's forehead frowned and she beckoned him forward, a look of concern on her face. Sherlock immediately stiffened, raising the gun to point at her again. She rolled her eyes again.

"It's dislocated Mr Holmes, I doubt even a good doctor such as Dr. Watson could fix that himself without a huge struggle. Now John if you wouldn't mind?" she said pointedly. John placed his good hand on Sherlock's shaking arm, calming the detective immediately.

"She just saved our life's Sherlock" he said calmly. John walked forward and stood before the woman.

"Yes John, but she did just kill... 3 people wasn't it?" Sherlock continued, refusing to lower his gun. The woman sighed, grasping John firmly by the shoulder.

"Yes but they weren't very nice people. They would have killed you if they had the chance, this is going to hurt John" she whispered. John nodded gritting his teeth. With that she wrenched his shoulder back into place, hearing it as it popped back into the socket. John screamed his face sweating and his hand tight around her arm. Using the elastic from her wig as a holdall, she used Sherlock's discarded scarf as a sling tying it tight and firmly into place stopping the arm from moving any further.

"Ok all done... ok what is it Sherlock" she said, turning her eyes on the perplexed looking detective. John groaned clutching his arm.

"It's what you said... about the people not being nice, it's something he's heard before" he smiled looking over at the detective. Sherlock's brow furrowed and his mouth opened as if to begin to say something. He was interrupted of calls of police and hurried footsteps. Her time was up.

"Well boys, I have to get going." She said, walking towards the exit, taking her gun and ripped wig with her. She ran towards the exit, holding it open before looking back at the two men. Sherlock had given the gun back to John and was making his way towards her, his arm held out as if to stop her.

"Who are you?" he whispered, when they were face to face. Her unnaturally green eyes flicked up to his, close up he could see that they were contact lenses. She held her gloved hand to his face and gently stroked his cheek.

"You'll find out soon enough" she replied, gently pressing her lips to his skin. His eyes closed under the contact and as soon as it went and his eyes opened she too had disappeared. Sherlock remained frozen for a second before turning as Lestrade called his name.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2- A Distraction

The woman smiled as she faced John, him clearing his throat in a businesslike manner as he shuffled through the notes that the smiling and blushing nurse had just brought into him. The woman had a blatant crush on the Doctor, and unbeknownst to him she was planning on asking him out for coffee that evening. Of course John would accept, only to be interrupted by Sherlock's angry message when he discovered her latest exploit. She smirked to herself, chuckling under her breath.

John looked up at her through rimmed glasses, that judging by his unease at wearing them were a new addition to his wardrobe.

"Something funny?" He said an honest and friendly smile ,crinkling his eyes and causing all his features to light up. She shook her head allowing her brown wig to flick around her shoulder and she looked up at John with flirtatious brown eyes.

"Nothing... nothing. I was just thinking about something that happened a few weeks ago- I ended up having to fix some poor sod's broken arm in the middle of no-where" she said teasingly ,keeping with her put on a heavy welsh accent.

John's hand absentmindedly drifted over to his still aching shoulder blade, his fingers ghosting over when the bone occasionally popped out of place.

"I fail to see what's funny about that" he whispered, his face now sombre and curious. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"What was funny, was his friends reaction, he thought I was going to hurt the man- which of course I was because I was fixing a dislocated shoulder" she continued. John frowned at her, his fingers freezing motionless.

"I- I thought it was a broken arm" he said suspiciously. She grimaced and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Oh dear- I've given myself away haven't I?" she said, lightly tapping her hand against her knee. John's eyebrows flew into his overgrown and shaggy hair. The woman got up from her seat, being sure to give John a look at the gun that she had concealed in her long navy coat. His eyes followed her until she was standing beside him, a hand on her jutted hip and her teeth biting her full lips.

She placed a booted foot on his chair, moving the wheeled piece of furniture and the frozen doctor towards her. He looked up at her his eyes wide.

"Are you here to kill me?" he whispered, thinking about the gun he had stupidly left at home. She tapped her lip thoughtfully for a moment before bending down and meeting his eye line. Her eyes glittered madly as she crashed her lips to his.

John struggled for a moment, but began to kiss her back as her tongue infiltrated his mouth and she straddled his lap, pinning his body, under her strong but slender one. She pulled away sharply, her hands entangled in his hair. He yelped looking at her with want and embarrassment as she smirked downwards at his growing organ.

"I- can- think- of -something –much- more- fun- to- do." she said huskily brushing her lips against his at every gap between her words. Her fingers moved inside his shirt, her fingertips lightly brushing against the sensitive skin of his chest. She ripped the shirt above, a sick satisfaction when she heard the material rip and the button's pop open. John groaned, arching beneath her touch as she peppered kisses over his chest.

His phone chimed, causing John to look over from his blissful state, his eyes dazed and dreamy.

"Sherlock" he husked, recognising the personal message tone of his friend. The woman smiled knowingly, thinking of Sherlock's confusion and anger when he got the message from Scotland yard. John peered up at her, attempting to force her body from this but faltered once more as her light fingers began to fumble with his jean button and zip.

"Much more fun" she whispered, her mouth travelling downwards, licking and sucking all the way.

When Sherlock finally entered John's practice room he found the man naked, lipstick smeared across his face, chest and god knows what else, clearly post coital and gagged and bound to his chair. He ran across the room, ripping the gag from the man, ignoring the man's haphazard look and shook his slightly.

"What the hell happened?" Sherlock demanded to the dazed man. John blinked slowly allowing his brain to catch up with what had happened in the last half hour- _for _the last half hour.

"It was her Sherlock, the woman from the pool- she- she did this" he stammered. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"But, but she saved us, she was so kind- why would she do this to _you_?" Sherlock wondered out loud, all the time wondering why the brilliant woman hadn't done this to him.

John sensed his tone and furrowed his brow.

"You forget who she is- she's a killer. She could have easily been manipulating us in the pool- to get what she wants out of us- and I didn't exactly push her off me" he whispered a crimson blush spreading across his face.

Sherlock groaned, spreading his hand across his face.

"She was the one who- oh god! She did this to get me away from the crime scene..." he groaned again.

"Shit!" he yelled, kicking John's desk in frustration. John shot him a self righteous glare that he should not have been giving in the current circumstances.

From the roof of the building opposite the woman pulled the brown wig off and allowed the wind to ruffle her long black hair. She surveyed the scene in the doctor's surgery and smiled.

"You'll find out soon" she whispered to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

Already Lost

He knew her the second he saw her. Before he'd seen her encased in a tight leather cat-suit, this time it was a shocking pillar-box red dress, tight around her ample bust and flowing from a nipped in waist, her black hair long and flowing down her back. Red painted lips pressed against the champagne glass that she held in one elegant hand.

Sherlock walked over to the woman, slowly but with purpose. Her brilliant blue eyes caught his as he approached, widening in appreciation as they flicked over his tall, muscular, tuxedo clad body. A wide smile appeared on her lips and she passed him a glass of the bubbling liquid that she'd had waiting for him. Sherlock ground his teeth in frustration and annoyance, accepting the glass regardless, but leaving it on bar beside the two of them.

"You're not going to drink it darling? £125, per glass, don't you know?" she whispered in her faux American accent, matching her bolshie current appearance. Sherlock huffed under his breath, causing the woman to arch an eye-brow at him.

"Like you paid for it- some elderly man in the back paid for it hoping to get into your pants." he hissed back. The woman shrugged, rolling those beautiful and for once real blue eyes.

"Well... it gets me by." she said, her voice raising a slight octave despite her blasé attitude, in surprise at his harsh words. Sherlock smirked, but faltered as she turned on him, her eyes looking at him in suspicion.

"Or is the problem that you want to get into my pants? And you're not quite sure how?" her smile widened as Sherlock's mask of coolness dropped and his face fell to the floor, a blush creeping across his cheeks. Her laugh tinkled loudly through the bar, making everyone in the small area take a look and all of the men take a second, longer, lingering look. Sherlock had the sudden urge to grab the woman and show every man in the area that she was his.

Because she was- and judging by the curious and flirtatious look that was on her face, she wouldn't have minded him taking her then and there. Her hand was caressing the slim, stalk of crystal that made up the stem of her glass, causing Sherlock to think all inappropriate thoughts of what else she could do with those hands.

They were creators hands, beautiful, chiselled, made to create, the paint, to mould, to write but they were also a destroyers hands, deadly and steady, killers hands, she could take him out with one flick of those slim wrists, or she could take him apart another way, with pleasure as she tipped him over the edge. Either way Sherlock wouldn't win.

Her tongue flicked out to touch the bottom of her lip, her eyes directly on his, wide and knowing, knowing precisely what was going through his mind. Sherlock's face locked, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as the woman's hand came to rest on his knee. He had already lost and accepted the welcome press of her lips on his.

* * *

Small filler chapter- will continue with the rest of their evening/night next time.


End file.
